


no one can hear you

by Blueberries (Blueberries_Pen)



Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [31]
Category: DCU
Genre: Abandonment, Left for Dead, M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27268570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries
Summary: He's alone.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947430
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	no one can hear you

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober: left for dead
> 
> There was only this last fic left in this series and I figured I might as well publish now or I'll definitely forget later.

His hair is still black. 

That's not right, he knows, from the second he wakes up and sees the rage burning thunderously in Slade's eyes. 

He whimpers and flinches back, but Slade is faster, reaching forward and breaking a finger without warning. Robin screams, unable to hold back the yell, and screams again in the next second as Slade sets it. His hand jerks, and Robin cries, little hiccuping sobs because he  _ knows  _ he's disappointed his master but doesn't know how to make it  _ right _ . 

Slade keeps a tight hold on his hand, examining it this way and that, but… whatever he's searching for he doesn't find.

"M-master?" Robin asks with a quiver, and knows he's made a mistake yet again when Slade backhands him clear across the face.

He whines, low, a pathetic sound. He just wishes Slade would  _ tell  _ him when and where he did wrong instead of just hitting him because how is Robin supposed to know how to do better if he doesn't know  _ how? _

Slade tugs him by the collar, and then Robin is stumbling after him on skittish, hurried legs like a newborn fawn.

"You," Slade says tightly, "Are going to have a test."

Hurriedly Robin agrees through choking breaths, hoping to please Slade. "Yes, master."

Slade regards him coldly, stopping suddenly and jerking him forward to look down into his eyes. "Do you even understand the consequences of failure, boy?"

Trembling, Robin shakes his head. "No, master."

Slade leans down, eye hard. His voice is soft, but so, so deadly. "If you fail, boy, I might as well leave you to  _ rot." _

It's hissed with such venom, such hate, that Robin can't help but flinch back, eyes wide. Slade… doesn't usually sound so pissed. He swallows. "I won't, master," he promises.

Slade scoffs, but there's a softer edge to it now. "You don't even know what the rest  _ is,  _ boy." He lets go of Robin's collar, walking briskly, and Robin scampers after him. Slade walks so fast that, in desperation, Robin reaches out grasps a corner of Slade's shirt in between two fingers. It's the hand that already has a broken finger, so that even if Slade decides to break his fingers again, Robin will still have one hand that works more or less properly.

Slade glances back at him with an unreadable expression on his face, and Robin looks back up with wide, nervous eyes, free hand fisting in the sleeve of Slade's too big shirt on him.

But his master says nothing, and actually slows down a little, till it doesn't feel like he's running.

Robin still shivers and feeling the cold hit his bared shoulder, pulls the shirt back over it and tugs it tighter around himself.

He's scared.

They walk through endless corridors, and as Robin realizes where they're going, he trembles. What did he do  _ wrong? _

"Come here," Slade says, tugging him closer once they enter.

With leaden feet, Robin obeys, shuffling forward mutely. Slade fingers unbuttons his shirt, and leave him shivering, small and bruised next to Slade's body with just the collar around him. That always stays.

Slade's fingers hook around the collar, and Robin heard a click. He freezes, eyes going wide as the all too familiar weight disappears from his neck.

Slade took off the collar.

He's not - he doesn't -

"Ma-master?" Robin asks shakily.

Slade regards him, dispassionate. "If you fail," he says quietly, "You won't need it." 

He's serious, Robin realizes. He  _ means  _ it. "I won't, master,  _ please _ ," he pleads, hand grasping Slade's shirt.

"Don't make me break your hand, too, boy," Slade says mildly.

Robin swallows, and reluctantly lets go. He's more surprised that Slade  _ waits _ for him than anything else. "I'm sorry," he whispers. 

His master doesn't speak, just nudges his hands up and locks them within the shackles, and then pulls the lever to make him rise until he's helpless on his tiptoes.

Robin doesn't understand – this isn't a test, this is a punishment. It already aches. "Master?" he asks again, timidly, continuing when Slade doesn't hit him. "What did I do wrong?"

Slade lips curl as he attached shackles to his legs too. "I gave you the serum. It was supposed to make you better. More like me. Stronger, faster,  _ better.  _ It appears to have… not worked." He rises, stepping back to observe Robin. "If it didn't work, boy, you're nothing but a burden to me. A hindrance. You'd have been nothing but a waste of my time. And if that's all you are - well. I might as well get rid of you."

Robin listens, fear like a rock in his belly, frozen.

Slade's hand lands on his cheek, soft. "I'm going to test you, drive you the extreme. If you still show no signs of enhancement… I'll leave you for dead, boy. Do try your best to show some talent, hm?" 

Slade brings out the whip.

Robin jerks, breath quickening. He knows his body. Knows by the aches and pains that are the same as  _ always  _ that Slade won't find what he's looking for. 

He gasps as the first strike hits, body jerking in the air, held precariously in place by the shackles. He clenches, squeezing his eyes shut. Slade wants him to be strong. Better. So even if Robin isn't enhanced, even if he isn't that, he just has to hold on, has to not scream, not beg, not cry, not be  _ weak. _

_ Snap. _

Don't scream, he orders himself, as blood trickles down his back.

_ Snap.  _

Don't beg, he reminds himself, as the whip cuts into him deeper.

_ Snap.  _

Don't cry, he pleads with himself, as his eyes burn when they can't take the pain but he  _ has  _ to.

Has to be better, has to be good, has to - with one harsh strike that makes all his nerves flare, Robin  _ screams. _

He thinks he hears Slade sigh, and he bites his lip harshly tasting blood.  _ No.  _ He can't be weak, if he is - if he's  _ weak _ \- Slade will  _ leave. _

But as the blows rain down, one after another, as pain flares, time after time, as burning stripes are etched into his body, from his shoulders down his back over his ass and even his thighs - it builds and builds, pain screaming and hurt hammering inside his head and making him scream again and  _ again. _

Slade doesn't speak.

Robin can't even see him - doesn't know what Slade thinking of him, if he's failing or by some miracle has held out enough, doesn't know anything at  _ all. _

It makes him panic, panic mixing with pain, swirling and pushing and aching until he cries, big ugly tears that fall down his face because it  _ hurts  _ and he doesn't know what to do. He's supposed to be stronger than this, better than this, but it  _ hurts, _ and why does it hurt  _ so much - _

Robin shrieks, loudly, sobbing, and that damning word comes tumbling out his mouth, hot and burning. "Please!" He hates it as soon as it leaves his mouth, unable to be stopped, and why is he so  _ weak. _

_ Pathetic. _

Slade keeps going, uninterested in his pleas as always, but Robin is so, so, ashamed. So damn ashamed to be struggling, to be fighting against  _ this.  _ His master gave him a chance to prove he was something better and what did Robin do? He  _ wasted  _ it.

Robin cries, screams and pleas with every strike, unable to help himself, words slurring together as he swings back and worth, voice slowly becoming quieter and quieter with each strike until his voice goes hoarse and his body goes limp and he can think of nothing else except that burning pain, throbbing over and over.

It stops, eventually, Slade circling back to his front, looking at him dispassionately. 

Hands tilt his chin up, and Robin blinks owlishly. "...m...mas…ter," he rasps, vision hazy.

"You failed," Slade says simply, and his hand drops. His back turns. Boots step away, towards the door.

Away from Robin.

Abandoning Robin.

Leaving him.

The thought wakes him up, whining pathetically with pain as he struggles to raise his head, tear tracks down his face and hot blood dripping down his back to the floor. "...mas...ter," he calls feebly. Slade doesn't stop. "Master," he begs, louder, coughing. Slade keeps on walking. "Slade!" he gasps out in a last ditch effort, pleading.

Slade stops, but doesn't turn.

Tears stream anew down Robin's face. "Please," he begs, a burst of adrenaline pushing him to speak. "If you're going to leave, please, kill me yourself, master, please!"

Nothing terrified him more than dying here  _ alone _ , hurting and aching every moment, waiting  _ alone  _ as he bleeds out bit by bit, without his master.

"Please, Slade," Robin begs, sobbing." _ Please." _

Slade turns, and even with his face as cold as it is, Robin feels hope. 

"You wasted my time, kid. You  _ deserve  _ to suffer," Slade says, and Robin swears his heart stops.

Damningly, the door shuts, casts him into darkness, and Robin  _ screams. _

But there is no one to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> and now i leave you, like Slade left Robin XD  
> bye bye ~


End file.
